Seravi

Seravi was not born pretty, like her sister. Seravi was born for war.

Seravi is the sister of Shikali. Their mother, a calculating Nocturne named Mieryn, prepared them both very early in their lives for the roles she wanted them to fulfill. For the lovely Shikali, to mimic the demure, proper lady of the court, to prepare her for marriage to a high-ranking male. For Seravi, who would never be so admired as her sister, for more practical--and brutal, purposes. The court life of their particular Nocturne society was a tapestry of deception, posturing, and politics, and it wasn’t rare for a sideways glance or a whisper behind closed doors to turn into blatant assassination attempts or other vies for power or wealth. Other assassins did their work quietly, quickly. If they were daggers in the shadows, Seravi was a battleaxe. Seravi was to send a message. Like an artist of the macabre, Seravi did her work well, and Mieryn hoped that, with this monster under her control, their own family’s path to power would be an uncontested one.

In this way their mother’s plan was perfect, but the only ones who dared contest it were none other than Shikali herself, and her mate to be. For this treachery, their fate was to die at Seravi’s hand.

~~

"You understand what you must do, then?"

Seravi turned her eyes downward.

"Yes."

"Then see to it, do not disturb me until it is done." Her mistress dismissed her with a disdainful flick of her talons.

Seravi flew, wings cutting through the still night air with a faint whistle. She didn’t think. Shadowbinder knew that had been beaten out of her years ago. Seravi’s job was to follow orders, and as for thinking...she didn’t find herself very good company anyway. With only the faint moonlight and the scents of the Tangled Wood to guide her, she landed deftly near an expansive stretch of thick brambles and began to crawl, slinking through a narrow tunnel of briars that was all but imperceptible from the outside. Deeper she went, relying only on touch now, as the path snaked and curved, passing false tunnels and dead-ends intended to confuse and ensnare unwanted guests. Not Seravi, for she had been here countless times before. At long last, the brambles above began to open up, and the faint scratching of thorns against her scales faded as the tunnel widened.

Before her was a spacious den, still surrounded on all sides by the briars, but with ample room from the floor to the twisted, overarching vines that formed the ceiling, such that a dragon had enough room to fly if they so wished. They were so deep in the Foxfire Brambles that it would have been impossible to see in the lair if it weren’t for several patches of glowing mushrooms, encouraged to grow in strategic places throughout the den for a reliable, if dim, source of light. Near the far wall, two blue dragons slept, the dark colors of their scales almost blending in with the pools of shadow. One lifted her head as soon as Seravi had moved several paces forward.

“Seravi?”

Seravi was silent, stepping forward with an unbroken gait.

“Seravi, what is it?” Shikali’s soft brown eyes were concerned. She was standing now.

Seravi paused, bracing herself.

“She knows.”

“What?” Shikali started, taken aback.

“Mother knows your plans to flee. Our contacts have betrayed us.” With a precise motion, Seravi snatched a letter from the pouch around her waist, tossing it onto the floor so that the black wax seal faced upward. A writ of death.

Shikali recoiled at the sight, clearly shaken. She didn’t speak, but Seravi knew the thoughts that must be rushing through her head. They knew Mieryn was dangerous, knew her madness was only equaled by her ambition. Was it hope, or naivete, that had let them cling to the idea that her own daughters would be exempt from her ruthlessness?

Did it matter? That illusion had shattered now.

It was with silent urgency that Shikali and Belteshazzar gathered their essentials and their traveling rations. With flint and steel, they coaxed a fire in the brambles of the lair, and though the air was damp, it wasn’t long until the flames blazed, engorged by the thick tangles of thorns that fed it. Soot dusting their scales, they fled into the dark.

Seravi returned to Mieryn’s lair in the same night, before the sun rose.

“That was fast, even for you,” the wizened dragoness smiled sarcastically. “I hope you at least had a little fun with it.”

Seravi didn’t speak, but moved forward with grim resolve. A few cuts with the blade, and her mother crumpled before her. It happened so quickly, she hadn’t even had time to cry out as she was struck down. Perhaps Seravi should have felt something, but the only thing she sensed within herself was tiredness.

Seravi left one final message, and she didn’t need to write words in the blood for it to be understood. Follow us, it said, and you too shall die.